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“They are… metal?” the judge repeated, his lips twitching.
“Yes.”
“Are they the handcuffs that the officer used?”
“No, those were department-issued handcuffs.”
“And where did you get these mysterious handcuffs that are metal but not police issued?”
“Online,” she replied and froze like a deer in headlights as it became clear to everyone in the courtroom what kind of handcuffs she had strapped to her wrist and the wooden railing.
“Juror number five,” the judge began, chuckling now openly. “Are those handcuffs on Miss Cole police issue?”
“That is irrelevant, your honor,” she blurted out.
“Sustained… juror five?”
“It says…” the man’s eyes widened in shock as Elana’s face turned beet red, and she wished the floor would open right now and swallow her whole.
“Don’t…” she begged the juror in a hushed whisper, already knowing what it said – and looked at the judge, trying not to plead. “Your Honor, I couldn’t get any official handcuffs from the police department in a timely fashion for the trial, so I ordered a pair of metal handcuffs from an explicit website and had them shipped overnight.”
“She whaaaat?”
“What did that attorney just say?”
“Did she say she ordered handcuffs from a sex website?”
Elana could hear the ripple of laughter that was nearly as loud as the shockingly outrageous line of questioning that was coming from some of the spectators in the courtroom.
Oh yes, things got much worse from there.
She sighed, picked up a six-pack of beer, a pint of ice cream, a package of Oreos, and a frozen pizza. Tired, hungry, embarrassed, and feeling so low right now, she didn’t even realize that the man’s exclamation behind her was directed toward her.
“Heck yeah?! I just found my dream girl…”
Elana continued down the grocery aisle – only to see something out of the corner of her eye as a shockingly good-looking man rushed right up beside her and handcuffed her left wrist.
“I’ve been looking for you my whole life,” he smiled, gesturing at her basket of junk food. “Pizza, beer, ice cream, cookies, handcuffs, and the sexiest set of thick thighs that I’ve ever seen.”
Elana looked at him in horror.
“Did you just freakin’ call me THICK?”
“Oh yeah, babe… thick-y thick like a delicious succulent pork roast.”
“What in the heck is wrong with you?!” she roared and attempted to swing her grocery basket at his head – only to realize it was on the handcuffed wrist and currently attached to his.
“You are my dream girl…” he said, completely confused. “Why are you mad, bruh? I don’t get it. Weren’t those cuffs bait?”
“Bait? Bait? No! What kind of freak thinks handcuffs are bait?”
“Um, can you lower your voice?”
“You’re mad.”
“I’m furious.”
“Why? Isn’t a man supposed to flatter a woman? I mean, good gracious I saw you bend over to get that pint of ice cream and saw you were wearing thigh highs…”
